I try so hard to unfeel things..
Pushing against the walls of my past.
I invite the help of other hands to topple the monumental foundation that is "Kyle."
It never works..
"I'm responsible for my own happiness."
I'm so irresponsible sometimes..

To be, or not, to be...
That is plagiarism.
Although, the rested see..
It's the only "ism"
Will I do?
Or, will I do not?
Will I place soulfully, the life before me?
Or, will I defy my end with bitter, confusion.
I doubt them both.
Within my heart,
I chase a rope.
About a time,
When rhyme and cope.
Are one, the same,
Rewrite my hope.
Can one remain,
While others greave?
Burn the bridge,
And meld the seam.
Amassed awake,
Your idle dream,
Don't mind the pain,
Rewrite and leave.

I feel a presence,
As if it tickles the back of my ear.
Subtle and warming, reaching and playcating.
Amassed by the sound, I walk forward, stumbling and dumbfounded.
Tripping over pebbles like mountains. It wasn't who I thought I was, it was you..

Skewed, and Angled.
Perception of time seems so vulnerable, at least able to be captured.. mangled.
Away it flies, yet draws closer by the second; quilted with its own set of rules and manners.. entangled.. in itself.
Oxymoronic.
The ultimate healer, but kills all, besides itself, "In time." Dividing a fine line between happiness and misery..
Above rides the wind, and below, the waves.
Neither can go back, or skip ahead.